


A Question of Trust

by Deannie



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s03E23 Wetwired, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1996-06-28
Updated: 1996-06-28
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scully runs from her partner as she slowly descends into madness as a result of the experiment in "Wetwired".</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Question of Trust

**Part I:  
What He Felt**   


He was amazed to remember every word that the lieutenant had said. As he drove, they ran endlessly through his mind...  


"Agent Mulder? This is Lieutenant Casey, of the Maryland State Police. We... found a body that seems to fit the description of your partner. 5' 2", red hair, blue eyes... We'd... we'd appreciate it if you could come down for an identification."  


Mulder had wondered idly if the boy on the other end had ever had to do this before. Probably not. For the kid's sake, he hoped he never had to do it again.  


"The body's at the county coroner's office," the young officer continued quietly. "If you take the main highway into --"  


"I'll be right there," Mulder had stated, cutting off the directions. He knew how to get there.  


He'd stood, his mind halfway to that morgue already, when Frohike's voice stopped him. He'd almost forgotten the other men in the room.  


"What happened?"  


"Maryland State Police," Mulder had replied, a little dazed as he grabbed for his coat. "They think they've... found Scully."  


"Is she all right?" He didn't remember hearing concern in the little man's voice, but he assumed it had been there.  


"No, um... They think maybe I should come down and I.D. the body."  


He had closed the door to their office, and leaned against it for a moment. And that was when the pain had started growing in his gut, all but doubling him over in the dimly lit stairwell. He straightened up with difficulty. He had to do this. He _had_ to. Because if Margaret Scully had to come down...  


   


So here he sat, driving into Maryland, a heavy weight in his stomach, his hands shaking visibly on the steering wheel.  


It couldn't be her. This just could not be happening.  


His body running on instinct, he found himself suddenly driving into the garage below the county courthouse, heading for the coroner's office. He knew the drill. The coroner would meet him there, there'd be a window--shades, or blinds--maybe a curtain, if the place was old enough. The coroner would tell him who had found her, when, where, how she'd...  


He found that he'd parked the car sometime during his musings, and, again, that massive pain had doubled him over the steering wheel. He took a deep breath, launching himself out of the car.  


The trick now was not to feel. Shut it off. Shut it down. Pretend that this was no more than a routine case--this was just a body... just--  


The blue sign ahead was a death knell, as he looked fixedly at the second heading: "Coroner's office."  


His vision was impeded suddenly by a non-descript sedan that pulled up before him. The 'messenger' sat in the driver's seat, leaning toward the passenger's window.  


"Get in."  


Mulder felt the anger well up in him, felt it--at least briefly--block out the pain in his stomach. "I can't talk to you right now."  


"They're watching you. Now, get in before you get us both killed."  


The anger built. "That's an interesting choice of words--my partner may be dead."  


"That's not my concern," the messenger replied callously.  


"The hell it's not! We're here because of _you_!"  


"Keep your voice down."  


He'd had enough now. Enough of the lies and the subterfuge-- "Who are you? Who do you work for?"  


"We're wasting time," the man replied. "While you're chasing your partner, they're destroying the evidence."  


Vengeance was an even better substitute than anger. "Who?"  


"Just follow the evidence," the man insisted. "If you don't, by tomorrow, the responsible parties will be out of your reach."  


Mulder let the anger take over, kicking the sedan door hard enough to make the man inside jump. Without another word, he turned back toward the corridor, hearing the car peel out behind him.  


He sighed, looking up at the fluorescent lights above him. _It looks like an old warehouse in here,_ he thought dimly. _Why the hell do I have to come down to see Scully's body--_  


He cut off the thought sharply, turning his eyes back to the corridor before him. Don't feel. The trick was not to feel.  


He avoided the sight of the coroner, who stood waiting for him, for as long as he could, but ultimately, the hefty, grey-haired man was all there was left to see--him, and the window.  


It had blinds.  


   


"State highway patrolman found the body off a rural highway at approximately 2 pm," the coroner was telling him. Mulder closed his eyes bitterly at the next part of the procedure. "Nude. Shot in the forehead."  


_Oh, Scully..._   


The coroner stood, his hand poised on the blinds' lever. Again, Mulder didn't hear the sympathy, but he knew it had to have been there. "Are you ready?"  


"Let me do that," Mulder muttered quietly, replacing the coroner at the blinds.  


He steeled himself. Don't feel, he reminded himself as he prepared to turn the lever. Don't feel. The trick is--  


A young woman, maybe thirty-two, maybe thirty-three years old. Scully's size. Scully's hair... His eyes almost closed again, as the pain in his stomach began to subside.  


"It's not her."  


He started to walk away. Part of him supposed he should thank the coroner--something--but all he managed to get out was, "Somebody has to call her mother."  


"Uh, we already tried," the coroner said, stopping Mulder in his tracks, and allowing the dull throb to build again. "We weren't able to reach her."  


Mulder turned on him, dread taking over from his momentary relief. "She's not answering her phone?"  


He dimly saw the coroner shrug as he turned and headed for his car. By the time Mulder left the corridor, he was running.  


   


Part of him knew that, no matter what, Scully would _never_ hurt her mother. He knew that. But then, he also knew that anyone who knew Joseph Patnik would have said that he'd _never_ kill his wife.  


He took a deep breath as he neared Margaret Scully's house, trying to keep himself under control. The lights are on, he told himself comfortingly as he mounted the stairs to the porch.  


_It doesn't mean anything._   


Urging his mind to silence, he grabbed the knocker, hitting the door with a shaking hand. Scully could _never_ hurt her mother...  


There was no answer. The anxiety building, the pain in his gut nearly unbearable now, he leaned off the porch to look in the windows. Nothing. He knocked again. He realized he'd been holding his breath, as the porch light flicked on, and he exhaled.  


Margaret Scully opened the door only enough to wedge herself into the tiny space.  


"Mrs. Scully," Mulder asked, his relief at seeing her dampened by her furtive demeanor. "Is she here?"  


"Um, no." Margaret Scully was many things--one of them was _not_ a good liar.  


"You haven't been answering your phone," he observed carefully.  


"Well, when I hear from her, I'll call you, okay?"  


She wasn't going to let him in. "I need to see her," he replied, pushing his way past.  


Margaret sounded almost hysterical. "Fox, please, go away. Go away!"  


"I'm sorry," he said, walking into the living room, turning toward her as he found it empty. "Where is she?"  


The movement behind him was startling, and he whirled in response--  


To find Dana Scully, gun in hand... pointing it at him.  


"Dana, put down the gun!" her mother cried.  


"I'm here to help you, Scully," he said carefully, walking slowly forward.  


"I told you, Mom," Scully said, her eyes too wild, body almost shaking with fear and anger. "He's here to kill me."  


Mulder held his hands out slightly, showing her they were empty. "I'm on your side, you know that."  


Margaret had come up beside him--too close for his comfort, if Scully started shooting. "Put it down, Dana," she urged.  


"Scully, listen to me very carefully," Mulder said, taking another tentative step forward. He kept his eyes locked with hers, a little sick to find only betrayal in her gaze. "You don't know it, but you're sick--with the same thing that drove those other people to murder." He took another step. "And whatever you think may be happening--"  


Pure anger colored her eyes, as she cocked her gun. "Just step back."  


Margaret moved forward. Mulder desperately wanted to tell her to get away--out of the line of fire--but he was afraid of what Scully might do. She was not at all his partner now, and he couldn't even begin to predict her actions.  


"Dana," her mother said sadly. "You're not yourself. He's telling you the truth."  


At the word, Scully's eyes seemed to grow even harder. "It's not the _truth,_ Mom," she declared, her slurring of the word as painful as a gunshot would have been. "He's lied to me from the beginning."  


Mulder couldn't help but shake his head. She couldn't think that...  


"He never trusted me--"  


"Scully, you are the _only_ one I trust," he broke in, willing her to believe him.  


She shook her head slightly. "You're in on it," she announced coldly. "You're one of them. You're one of the people who abducted me!" Her hands were shaking now, and Mulder found his eyes watering at the sight. "You put that _thing_ in my neck. You killed my sister!"  


Margaret Scully's voice had tears in it. "That's not true, Dana."  


"It _is_!" Scully retorted petulantly.  


"I want you to listen to me," her mother said. Then Margaret Scully did the one thing that Mulder had been truly afraid of--she stepped between him and her daughter's gun.  


Scully's reaction was immediate. She pulled the gun to one side--only for a moment--and gestured madly at her mother. "Mom, just get out of the way!"  


Margaret Scully's voice became gently persuading, and Mulder watched--his eyes locked with his partner's--as Scully listened.  


"You trust _me,_ don't you?" her mother was asking softly. "You know that _I_ would never hurt you? That I would never let anybody hurt you?"  


Mulder could see Scully's eyes widening painfully.  


"That's why you came here, isn't it?" her mother continued. "You're safe here." Mulder held his breath, as Margaret began walking toward her daughter. "Put the gun down, Dana..."  


Scully's eyes widened again, and, for the first time that night, she seemed to recognize Mulder for who he really was. The pain in her gaze made him want to cry.  


"Put it down," her mother was saying, crying now with her daughter, as Scully brought the gun up to point at the ceiling. "Put it down, Dana..." She laid her forehead tenderly against the frightened redhead's. "Put it down."  


Her mother's touch seemed to be the final straw, and Scully, sobbing now, sank slowly to the floor, her mother enfolding her.  


Mulder stood, watching. He didn't know how long it was before Margaret looked up at him. Scully, still weeping, was beyond hearing what her mother might say. "Fox, I'm going to take her to the hospital..."  


"Do you want me to--"  


Margaret shook her head. "No. I'll take her. Just meet us at Georgetown."  


* * *  


Again, Mulder's body did the job of getting him to the hospital, his sedan following Margaret Scully's old station wagon through the half-full streets of a D.C. evening. His mind was centered on other things.  


_"He's lied to me from the beginning."_   


_"He never trusted me!"_   


Was it the psychosis talking? ...God... Did she really think he didn't trust her? That he'd _betray_ her?  


Those doubts circled in his head as he drove into the parking lot, parking his car, and moving, as if sleepwalking, to the emergency room door, where Scully and her mother had just disappeared inside.  


Even from the distance he kept from them, he could see that Scully was still sobbing, wracking sobs that nearly shook her mother as the older woman supported her.  


He remembered Joseph Patnik, hours after his last murder, still gripped by this psychosis...  


_Oh, Scully..._   


* * *  


Margaret held it together, maintaining her calm as she went about getting her daughter admitted. She'd wait until Dana was safe before she let herself feel anything more. It was a trick she'd learned years ago. Don't feel...  


Dana tensed beside her, her sobs becoming yet more labored. Margaret looked up, to see Fox Mulder standing just inside the emergency admittance lounge. He took one long, sad look at the terrified redhead, and quickly left the room.  


"It's okay, Dana," her mother said, running a soothing hand through her daughter's hair. "It's okay... I'd never let anyone hurt you..."  


"Mrs. Scully?" A young doctor had approached her, was watching her and her daughter critically. "I'm Dr. Lorenz..."  


* * *  


Mulder started as Margaret Scully stepped into the waiting lounge with an exhausted sigh.  


"How is she?"  


Mrs. Scully shook her head. "They're running some tests. I... um, told the doctor to talk to you about Dana's... condition."  


Mulder just nodded, watching her as she settled into a chair. Only then, did he notice that her hands were shaking. "Mrs. Scully..."  


She turned a "trooper's smile" on him. "I know she'll be all right, Fox... Dr. Lorenz said that they'll sedate her when they're finished with the tests..." Her smile now was genuine. "I'll call you tomorrow, when she wakes up?"  


Mulder nodded, standing, suddenly so exhausted that he wasn't sure he could make it to the car, much less back to his apartment in Alexandria. "Mrs. Scully," he said quietly. "Thank you."  


She just smiled as he headed out the door, looking for the doctor...  


He had no idea what he would say...  


* * *  


Though he hadn't slept at all, and had spent the night leaning over a computer screen, Mulder felt better for the shower--better still for Mrs. Scully's phone call. Scully was back to her old self, apparently. Exhausted, a little embarrassed, but whatever psychosis those video transmissions had caused was gone--hopefully for good, though they planned to keep her in the hospital for a few days yet, just to make sure.  


Better than that, she wanted to see him. "She feels so bad about what happened, Fox," Margaret had said to him. "She knows now that you were telling the truth."  


_But does she know I trust her?_   


He wanted to find out, knew he needed to have that discussion with her, but as he walked in the door of her hospital room, holding up his hands in mock surrender, watching the guilt on her face give way to a gentle smile, he wasn't sure there _was_ anything to say.  


With a relieved smile, Margaret left them alone to talk. He pulled up a chair, meeting Scully's eyes. "How you feeling?"  


Her eyes dropped quickly. "Ashamed... I was so sure, Mulder... I saw things, and I heard things... And it was just like the world was turned upside down. Everybody was out to get me."  


He smiled slightly, trying to show her that she wasn't to blame. "Now you know how I feel most of the time."  


She grinned briefly in return, but there was still that guilt in her eyes as she met his gaze. "I thought you were going to kill me."  


He nodded. "I'm not surprised." She cocked her head questioningly. "I did some checking," he replied, leaning forward. "Joseph Patnik thought he was murdering a Bosnian war criminal? A man the media described as a modern day Hitler. It turns out both Patnik's parents were Holocaust survivors."  


Her brow wrinkled. "I'm not following."  


"Helene Riddock was scared that her husband was going to be unfaithful to her. Do you see a pattern developing here? What if this video signal somehow turned these people's anxieties into some sort of dementia--a, a virtual reality of their own worst nightmares?"  


"Like me thinking you'd betray me..." she mused, looking past him guiltily, as he tried to hide the pain that admission caused him. "I was so far gone, Mulder, I thought you'd gone over to the other side."  


It seemed they were going to have the discussion after all, he thought, almost thankful. "What do you mean?" he asked, clasping his hands before his face thoughtfully.  


She fidgeted a little listlessly. "That Cancerman--the man who smokes all those cigarettes? I was sure that I saw the two of you sitting in your car in the motel parking lot. You were... reporting to him--you handed him a videotape." She sighed. "It was crazy."  


He thought about it. "Maybe not."  


"What do you mean?"  


"Well," he said simply. "We know somebody's behind this--we just don't know who."  


She looked at him, a little disbelieving. "You think it could be him?"  


"I don't know..." He looked at her. Pale, exhausted... Now was not the time to have the conversation. But it would have to be soon. He couldn't go on not knowing whether she really trusted him or not--whether she _knew_ that he trusted her. "Why don't you try to get some rest?"  


He stood up, and noticed the frustrated look on her face.  


"Mulder?"  


"Yeah?"  


"We... need to talk."  


He nodded, smiling down at her gently. "We can talk later."  


"No," she said firmly. "I need to tell you now."  


He sat down, leaning forward, glad just to be able to be with her again. After the last two days, after the morgue, her mother's house... He was glad just to see her. "Tell me what?"  


She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Mulder," she said quietly. "I... The things I said last night--"  


"It doesn't matter."  


"It _does,_ " she cried, frustrated again. She took a minute, gathering her thoughts. "I know that you know I wasn't myself, but..." She met his eyes again, and he was relieved to see the trust there. "I need you to know that I _do_ trust you--more than anyone... And the thought of that trust being betrayed..."  


He grasped her hand lightly as she trailed off. "Scully... The things we've seen in the last four years... The things we've lost... We can only trust each other. And the idea of having _no one_ to trust..." That remembered pain of his drive to the morgue was somehow a relief now. He smiled gently. "It would be my worst nightmare, too."  


   


   


**Part II:  
What She Thought**   


"Where are you going?" Scully asked, as Mulder rolled himself up off of her motel room sofa, and headed for the door.  


"I'm going to get some sleep," he said with a sigh, a concerned glance finding its way to her. "Looks like you could use some, too."  


She shook her head. She was sure she was just on the verge of proving her theory. "No, I'm going to watch the rest of these tapes--just out of curiosity."  


Mulder smiled at her tiredly. "You have fun."  


   


She hadn't.  


Mostly, she'd been bored. For the fourth time, she stopped fast-forwarding as she saw another map of Bosnia come on the screen. The newscaster was expounding on the atrocities there, and she sat, almost enthralled, as he recounted a number of the more heinous crimes. This _had_ to be what drove Patnik to kill those people. She knew herself to be perfectly sane, and the words and images still had the ability to get her blood up.  


That report finished, she pressed the fast-forward button again, as Bob Dole appeared on her screen, all the way from Yorba Linda, California, giving some speech or other, trying to raise more money for his already overstuffed coffers.  


She heard Mulder's phone ring dimly through the wall, and eavesdropped despite herself. She didn't hear much.  


"Yes... Okay, I understand..." His mysterious "outside source" no doubt. She wondered that he had all these sources. She also, in her less sober moments, wondered why he never saw fit to share them with her. After speed-watching close to 45 hours' worth of newscasts, this was definitely _not_ one of her more sober moments.  


His conversation caught her ear again, as she heard him say, "I was just watching the tapes... I'll come outside--" another late night meeting, she thought with a sigh. "No, she doesn't--" Doesn't _what?_ Scully asked herself.  


What was he talking about _her_ for? Was he keeping something important from her? She leaned in to the television, playing the tape at regular speed as a report on China's human rights violations came on, chewing thoughtfully on her ice. Why was he talking about her...?  


Half an hour later, she'd decided that if she was really going to finish scanning all of these tapes, she'd have to provide her body with a little more caffeine. The ice machine was out in the parking lot, so she didn't have to worry about the refreshment room being locked at this absurd time of night.  


Her ice bucket filled, she stuck a few quarters in the soda machine. Leaning forward toward the machine, she was in a position to see Mulder's car, and to see that he was speaking with someone--laughing with them, it looked like. She walked carefully around the wall, watching him, hoping to get a glimpse of his "outside source."  


What she saw very nearly stopped her heart. A match flared in the darkness of Mulder's rental car, and, illuminated by it, sat the man that Mulder claimed to hate more than anyone else in the world--the man Mulder called Cancerman.  


She stood for a moment, baffled, certain that it must just be a trick of the light. But a van, pulling in to the motel at the end of a long day of driving, shone its headlights into Mulder's car, spotlighting the cancerous old man. The man who was behind so much of the pain she'd gone through in the last four years...  


And there sat Mulder--a man who should have a gun to Cancerman's skull--laughing with him, and reporting to him, and handing him one of the many videotapes they'd taken from Patnik's house. She had almost determined to confront them, when that same van shone its light on her, frightening her back into the shelter of the refreshment area.  


She just couldn't believe what she had seen, and peeked around the corner as the van passed her, only to catch a glimpse of them pulling away in Mulder's car, a faint trail of smoke left behind by the Cancerman's cigarette.  


She sagged against the soda machine, her bucket of ice forgotten, as she tried to deny what she'd seen. But there was no denying it. They had been there, both of them...  


Seriously frightened, Dana Scully made her way back to her motel room.  


* * *  


She'd spent the whole night contemplating the terrifying revelation she'd made, staring sightlessly at the television as it played the videotape she'd had in when she left for her fateful errand. As daylight broke, the tape turned itself off, and Scully dimly heard the beginnings of the inane morning show that all television stations seemed to sport.  


He'd gone over.  


But how? And _why_? He had at least as much reason to hate these people as she did--more. They'd taken his sister...  


His sister... Was she the reason? Had he made some sort of deal with this Cancerman? Had he finally given up searching for the Truth, and thrown in with the people he most despised, just to glean some information?  


Her musings were interrupted by a knock at her door. _His_ voice came through the wood, sounding for all the world like he always had. Sounding like the partner she wasn't even sure she knew anymore. "Scully?"  


"Yeah," she replied blandly.  


"Just got a call. There's been another murder."  


God, he sounded like he'd done nothing wrong! Like he was just the same, trustworthy partner she'd always had. She gritted her teeth angrily.  


"Yeah... I'll be right there."  


   


She walked out to the car slowly. He hadn't parked in the same place when he returned from his meeting with Cancerman. She wondered what kind of lie he'd use to cover it up. Still a little disbelieving, she opened the ashtray, running a suspicious finger over the interior of it. Empty. Clean. Well, it would have to be, right? He'd always been careful about covering his tracks...  


She worried over that bit of insight as he opened the door, dropping into the driver's seat and talking a mile a minute, as he used to do when they were on an important case. "Happened just less than an hour ago," he was saying, buckling himself in. "Seems to match our pattern--a housewife gone berserk."  


 _"Seems to match_ our _pattern!"_  


"The car's been moved," she observed, trying to keep her voice level. "Did you take it out last night?"  


He seemed a little startled. "No," he said quickly, stumbling over his words in an attempt to get the lie out. "But I, uh... I went out and got a newspaper this morning." He tried to look innocent, but she was beginning to see through him now. "Why?"  


She shook her head. She wondered if he'd been lying to her all along--he was able to sound _so_ convincing now. "Nothing..." she replied, almost _wishing_ he'd call her on it, so she could confront him. Of course, he didn't. He couldn't risk confirming anything. "Nothing. Let's go see the crime scene."  


* * *  


She marveled angrily at how he could act so innocent, as they surveyed the crime scene. He really thought he had her completely snowed--and, in truth, he had. She had never suspected that he could be capable of this sort of deceit. Even now, she found herself dropping back into the old habits, tossing observations back and forth with him as if nothing had changed....  


But something _had_ changed. And she realized, standing blankly before the hammock, hearing the dead man's blood dropping faintly to the ground, that she had no idea _when_ the change had happened, or whether things had always been this way, and he had been lying to her from the beginning...  


"... Riddock lives over here," Mulder was saying. He stopped, gesturing to her peremptorily. "Scully?"  


Scully's eyes narrowed at the traitor she'd once known as her partner--her most trusted friend. Her voice was little more than a whisper. "Yeah... Let's check it out."  


   


The television in the kitchen was on, as was the large screen in the living room. One showing a hokey game show, the other the Home Shopping Network.  


Mulder picked up a statue from the table, heedless of the fact that he was disturbing a crime scene. His joking made her slightly ill. " 'A thing of beauty is a joy forever,' " he intoned smugly. "What do you think, Scully?"  


She tried to keep herself in control. He'd show his true colors eventually. She'd just play along and bide her time. "I think television plays a large part in both these murderer's lives," she replied tightly.  


"As it does in almost every American household," he countered, contradicting her, as always. "But television does not equal violence. I don't care what anybody says..." He continued talking, though she was barely listening now. "Unless you consider bad taste an act of violence..."  


"More tapes," she said shortly, having opened a large bureau and found stacks and stacks of videos. Mulder got up to stand behind her, peering into the bureau. She held down the urge to push him away, grabbing one of the tapes in her gloved hand, and sticking it into the VCR instead.  


After a brief look at the screen, he walked past her, into the dining area, putting the little statue down as he went. She scanned quickly through part of the tape, hypnotized by the banal shopping show that played before her, not hearing him as he headed out the door. "Hang on a second... I'll be right back."  


   


She stopped the video once, briefly, watching as the same ad for that obnoxious "little traveler" figurine came on. It was then that she noticed that _he_ was gone. She looked out the window, catching a glimpse of him-- _climbing a telephone pole!_  


   


She and the police were at the pole in seconds. "Mulder, what are you doing?"  


He sounded perplexed. _Probably angry that I caught him before he could get rid of whatever it is._ "I'm coming down."  


"What is it?"  


He dropped on to the trunk of the rental car, looking critically at the cylinder he held. "Some kind of cable trapper-scrambler running from the pole into the house."  


She wasn't going to let him get away with this evidence. No way. "Maybe it's a job for Special Agent Pandroll and the Sci-Crime lab," she suggested, wanting more than anything to get that thing _away_ from him.  


"Yeah," he replied, distracted.  


She held out her hand. "You want me to have it analyzed?"  


"Yeah, I'll do it," he offered. God, he sounded so _normal!_ But she could see by his face that she was telegraphing her frustration. "It makes more sense for you to go down and interview Helene Riddock--get her side of the story. Maybe she knows what this thing is."  


She _may not, but I bet_ you _do, Mulder._  


She was telegraphing again, and this time his response almost scared her. "Is there a problem with that?" he asked, a little suspicious now.  


"No, that's--" God, she couldn't let him know she knew! _Play it cool, Dana._ "That's fine."  


She seemed to have fooled him--at least for the moment. "Well," he said, as he got into his car. "Stay in touch."  


   


Scully had given up pacing by eleven-thirty. She'd given up hoping that somehow she was wrong about him by twelve. At one-fifteen in the morning, she knew that he wasn't coming back. He was probably reporting to Cancerman right now, giving that bastard all the information they'd been able to gather.  


With shaking hands, she dialed his cell phone number.  


"Mulder," he replied, sounding a little surprised. _He'd better be!_  


"Where are you?" She knew she didn't sound normal, but she just couldn't keep her anger in any longer.  


"Hey," he replied, trying to cover. "I--I was just about to call you. Look, I'm on my way back." He was still trying to stay on her good side--trying to cover up his guilt. "You may have been right, Scully--at least partly." _Oh, I'm right, okay._ "I think there's some kind of foreign signal being introduced into these people's homes _through_ the television."  


She realized now why he played at being so "out there". He could make any kind of wild theory sound plausible coming from his lips. She glanced at the television, where another of Riddock's banal tapes played. Foreign signal! Ha!  


"Scully, are you there?"  


"I'm here," she replied coolly.  


"I think they may be running some sort of test..." _Like the tests_ you people _ran on me?_ she wondered spitefully. "Scully," he said, breaking into her thoughts, for all the world _trying_ to sound concerned. As if he cared anything for her! "Did you hear what I just said?"  


 _Oh, I heard... And you probably expect that I'll believe you, too, don't you, you bastard?_ "So... you had it analyzed?"  


"Yeah!" _Oh of course, Mulder. I'd never think_ you _could lie to me!_  


But she knew something he didn't. "I spoke with Agent Pandroll," she said, catching him at his lie. "He said you never showed up."  


"I didn't take it over to Pandroll." Well, at least he didn't deny _that._  


"Then where _were_ you?"  


"Look," he said, falling back on his old paranoia trick. "I'd rather talk about this when we get on a land line, okay?" His next words sent a chill down her back. "We've dealt with these kind of people before. We know what they're capable of."  


She started as she heard that tell-tale click. "What was that?" she asked, scared now despite herself.  


"What was what?" He actually sounded surprised, but there was that click again!  


"There! That noise."  


He was silent a moment, and her heart started to beat a little faster. "Scully," he asked, nervous now. "Is there something wrong?"  


 _They know,_ she realized suddenly. _He told them._ Maybe there was a little part of him that was still her partner--a little part that would still help. "Mulder, who's listening to--"  


Another click.  


"Scully, look... I'm going to be right there, okay? Don't _go_ anywhere--" She gasped and hung up the phone.  


They knew, and they were coming after her. They'd probably been listening to every word she'd said since she got here. After all, _he_ was her partner. He could have--  


The phone rang, startling her. With a slow, sick movement, she pulled the phone cord to her, and yanked it out of the wall with all her might.  


God, they were coming. And they'd never let her live--not now that she knew the truth! But she had to make sure they'd never hear her leaving. There were probably bugs all over the motel room. He'd had ample time to plant them--ample opportunity.  


The phone was clean... Maybe one of the lamps? ...The electric plugs? The overhead light? ...The last place she could think to look was the television, but there was nothing behind it! She pulled the connections out, just in case, knocking a stack of videotapes off the top of it in her haste.  


She stood straight, looking around, trying vainly to think where they would hide it. The room shifted uncomfortably before her, and she felt suddenly dizzy after the frenzied exertion. Her eyes went strange...  


 _God..._ she thought dully, paranoia welling up as she tried to focus her eyes, _what has he done to me?_  


The flash of headlights through the curtain dropped her to the floor in a crouch. There they were. She could hear _him_ coming closer--and he had someone with him.  


Scuttling along the floor to the entrance and slipping the chain carefully onto the door, she listened to them whispering.  


"She's in this one," Mulder whispered, sounding more like a killer than the man she'd put her trust in for the past four years.  


"Okay," the other man replied. "Watch that window."  


"On a count," Mulder was whispering.  


"Wait!"  


The knock at the door nearly sent her reeling. She ran for her gun, knocking over a can she'd dropped in her haste to find those bugs. She couldn't worry about those anymore--this was her life they were after now.  


Somehow they'd gotten a key to her room. She tensed as the door opened, drilling four rounds into it, causing the man behind it jerk back violently. But she'd been too hasty--her shots had gone high. With a frightened gasp, she ran for the back door.  


"Get back!" she heard _him_ yell. "Call the police!"  


Oh God. He could convince the police that _she_ was the criminal here! It would be easy for him--he had proven _so_ good at convincing people....  


Terrified now, she disappeared into the night.  


* * *  


Margaret Scully woke slowly, to the sound of her phone ringing. She picked it up, barely awake. "Hello?"  


"Mrs. Scully?" came a familiar voice--a voice that suddenly sent chills through her. "Hi, it's Fox Mulder."  


She propped herself up on her elbow. "What is it?" she asked nervously. "What's the matter?"  


   


Mulder sighed inwardly, hating himself for putting her through this. But after hours of fruitless searching, she was his only hope. "I was hoping that you'd heard from Dana."  


"No," she replied, clearly frightened now. "Has something happened?"  


"I'm not sure exactly," he hedged. "There's some confusion here... She's missing."  


He could hear the steel fight its way back into Margaret Scully's voice. "What do you mean, 'missing'?"  


"She ran off last night, um..." He shut his eyes, drumming his hand against his pant leg in frustration. "We--we're looking for her as best we can, but we are a little concerned." _A little concerned!_ It came nowhere near the feeling in his gut when he thought about her disappearance.  


"Oh, my God," Margaret Scully whispered. He turned away from her daughter's now-empty motel room at the sound of the woman's fear. That was when he saw Skinner.  


"Look, Mrs. Scully," he said, a mixture of gentleness and impatience in his voice. "I hate to do this, but I have to hang up on you right now."  


"Fox," she asked tiredly, "would you please just tell me what's wrong?"  


He hated himself for this, but he had to stop the Federal Marshals from turning this into a Class-A manhunt. "Just hang by the phone," he pleaded. "I will call you as soon as I know something."  


* * *  


The phone call from Dana's partner had come almost twelve hours ago, and still Margaret had no word about her daughter. She sat, staring dully at the television. It was more something to keep her eyes engaged than anything she was actually watching. There were so many things she didn't want to see hiding in her mind, just waiting for her to close her eyes and let them out.  


She glanced at the phone again, willing him to call, willing _her_ to call. Fox had said that she'd "run off". Did that mean they were hunting her? Had she done something?  


Margaret shook her head angrily at the thought. Dana would never do anything wrong--her job was to catch those kinds of people, for God's sake!  


_Why won't he call?_   


"Mom?"  


Margaret whirled around, coming out of her chair as her daughter walked in from the back door. Dana returned her hug, almost desperately.  


"Are you okay?" Dana asked. "They haven't come after you?"  


Margaret looked at her--really looked at her--for the first time. She was disheveled, clearly exhausted. Most distressing, however, was the wild look in her too-large eyes.  


"Dana, what's going on?"  


Her daughter just looked at her for a moment, pain, disgust, and fear written in her gaze. "They're trying to kill me, Mom..."  


   


She'd finally gotten her daughter calmed down, but Margaret Scully still didn't believe what Dana was saying. Fox was trying to kill her? He was her partner--a man who had been so destroyed when Dana had disappeared... He would never hurt her. He couldn't.  


Margaret though hard about the wildness in her daughter's eyes. She wasn't well. She was almost... Of all of her children, she had never thought to have to say this about Dana, but she looked almost drugged. And she was so adamant about Fox being out to get her. A chill had gone down Margaret's back as her daughter had pegged her with crazed eyes.  


"I promise, Mom," she'd vowed. "I'll kill him before I let him hurt you, too."  


And then Dana had cried, saying that she couldn't believe, after all the things they'd been through together, that Mulder could turn on her like that. Margaret had come very close to calling Fox then, but Dana had become hysterical any time her mother neared the phone. So Margaret had stayed away from it, letting it ring when anyone called.  


She knew that, eventually, Fox would wonder why she wasn't answering, and would come to check on her.  


And if he did, Dana was prepared to kill him....  


* * *  


The knock at the front door was insistent, and it started Dana scrambling for her gun. "It's him, Mom," she told her mother quietly, checking her clip and slamming it home into her gun professionally.  


"Let me answer it," Margaret suggested. "I'll tell him you haven't been here."  


"No!" Dana said. They'd already killed her sister. Was she going to let them kill her mother, too? "No, just stay back, out of sight. I'll answer it."  


"Dana," Margaret said carefully, weighing her words against her daughter's growing agitation. "He'd have no reason to do anything to me..." She hit upon a plausible idea. "They'll want me here. They'll think you're coming here."  


Dana's eyes became slightly unfocussed for a moment, but she nodded. "I'll be back here, though... Just in case."  


Her mother walked out into the living room, and beyond, to the entryway. Scully stood just inside the dining room, listening.  


   


"Mrs. Scully, is she here?" Mulder sounded so sweet. He didn't know that her mom knew about him. He wouldn't fool _her_ anymore, either.  


"Um... no."  


"You weren't answering your phone."  


"Well, when I hear from her, I'll call you, okay?"  


Scully tensed as she heard her mother cry out, frightened. "Fox, please! Go away! Go away!"  


Scully tightened her grip on her gun, listening for him to come into the living room.  


"Where is she?"  


She whirled around the corner, training her gun on him.  


She heard her mother, terrified now. "Dana, put down the gun!"  


No way. She wasn't going to let him do anymore damage to her family. She wasn't going to let _them_ win. They'd got him to join them, but, no matter what, she _never_ would.  


"I'm here to help you, Scully."  


She almost laughed at his attempts to placate her now--now that she knew the truth.  


"I told you, Mom," she said, feeling that his careful response only strengthened her position. "He's here to kill me."  


He took up a defensive posture, holding his hands out to the sides, all but begging for mercy. "I'm on your side, Scully," he whispered, trying to salvage the situation. "You know that."  


As if she would believe him now.  


She was dimly aware of her mother coming up to stand next to the traitor, but all of her attention was focused on him, trying to anticipate his next move.  


"Scully, listen to me very carefully," he said quietly. she was amazed that he could meet her eyes, after all he'd done. "You don't know it but you're sick--with the same thing that drove those other people to murder." He took a tentative step toward her. "And whatever you think may be happening--"  


Uh-huh. No way. "Just step back," she commanded coldly, cocking her gun. If he came one step closer, she'd shoot him.  


Her mother moved forward now, trying to diffuse the situation. _So help me, Mulder... If you lay one hand on my mother..._  


"Dana, you're not yourself. He's telling you the truth."  


Scully hardened at the sound of that word. _Truth!_ "It's not the _truth,_ Mom," she said, trying to make her mother understand. "He's lied to me from the beginning."  


He shook his head. How could he deny it?  


"He never trusted me."  


"Scully, you are the _only_ one I trust."  


_LIAR!_   


"You're in on it," she accused him, finger tightening on the trigger. "You're one of them! You're one of the people who abducted me!" She was shaking now with the force of her anger. "You put that _thing_ in my neck!" She was almost crying now, fighting the tears so that she could keep a close eye on him. He had the nerve to looked betrayed himself. _She_ had suffered the cruelest betrayal. "You killed my _sister_!"  


She wasn't sure now why her mother was crying. "That's not true, Dana."  


"It _is_!" She hadn't wanted to believe it anymore than her mother did, but the facts were unassailable. He had betrayed her, had come here to kill her. He was _never_ her partner. _Never_!  


In anger, her finger tightened farther on the trigger.  


"I want you to listen to me," her mother said, stepping in front of _him._ Scully shook, as she released the trigger slightly, waving frantically at her mother. "Mom, just get out of the way!"  


Her attention was divided now, as she listened to her mother's soothing voice, while keeping a close eye on Mulder. He was close enough to grab her mother now, use her as a shield...  


"You trust me, don't you?" her mother asked her softly. "You know that _I_ would never hurt you? That I would never let anyone hurt you?" Scully finally let go of her fight against the tears, unable to hold up against her mother's tearful words.  


"That's why you came here, isn't it?" her mother asked. "You're safe here."  


Scully stood, her eyes locked on her partner, gun trained just above her mother's head, as her mother walked forward. "Put the gun down, Dana."  


Something happened then, as her mother approached, as she stared into Mulder's eyes--eyes that now brimmed with tears. It was as if she was watching herself from miles away, holding a gun on the only person she could ever really trust.  


In a daze, with her mother's rhythmic voice insisting that she put down the gun, Scully brought it up to point at the ceiling, her eyes holding more horror than betrayal as part of her realized what she had done.  


Slowly, gently, her mother came up to her, resting a cool, soft forehead against her own. Scully began sobbing now, fear, and anger, and shame all combined to take what little strength she'd had. Her mother supported her to the ground, as she sobbed endlessly.  


* * *  


_Northeast Georgetown Medical Center_   


Scully was divided. Part of her understood that she must be very sick. She was crying uncontrollably, breathing in great gusts of air that left her chest only grudgingly. Yes, she was very sick. Her mother sat next to her, filling out one of the endless forms that hospitals were famous for, and Scully knew, as she looked vaguely around the waiting area, that she was probably so sick, she didn't yet know it at all.  


But as a tall lanky man--a man that only days ago, she would have called her partner--walked in, his hazel eyes roaming until they fell on her, the other part of her took over. Her sobs grew painfully, her breathing shorter, as she looked at him and _knew_ he was there to hurt her.  


With a defeated eye, the man walked from the room, and Scully could feel her mother's hand running through her hair, could hear her mother's soothing voice. "It's okay, Dana," her mother crooned. "It's okay. I'd never let anyone hurt you..."  


And the other part of her took over again, telling her that her mother was right, that no one was going to hurt her. Not even that man that she had called her partner...  


* * *  


Sedatives always released their hold on Dana Scully grudgingly, and this bright morning was no exception. It took her minutes to come around to herself, precious minutes more to figure out where she was, and why she was there.  


When she did, she was suddenly consumed with guilt.  


Her mother stood carefully, walking to her bedside from a chair in the corner, and the older woman's smile was that gentle one Scully had seen by her sickbed in her youth. It was a kindness that, after last night, she knew she didn't deserve.  


"Hi, baby," her mother said softly. Scully could feel her mother watching her, waiting for whatever insanity had possessed her last night to return. Scully prayed it never would.  


"Hi, Mom," she whispered, unable to meet her mother's eyes.  


"Are you feeling okay?"  


Scully smiled blackly. "You mean, am I feeling ready to shoot anyone this morning?" She sighed sadly. "I'm fine."  


She lay there quietly, thinking over the past day, trying to figure out what had happened. She _knew_ she'd seen Mulder and the Cancerman. She'd heard Mulder talking about her on his phone...  


She felt sane now. No homicidal tendencies, no more paranoid than usual... But part of her remembered Joseph Patkin, doped up on Thorzine, still able to muster a display when he came in contact with the focus of his psychosis...  


"Mom?" she asked in an embarrassed whisper. "Where's Mulder?"  


Her mother's smile softened, and the older woman tilted her daughter's head up, to force her to look at her. "He's fine, Dana. I told him I'd call him this morning... when you were feeling better."  


Scully closed her eyes, punishing herself with the vision of Mulder at the wrong end of her own gun, his eyes soft with pain for _her._  


"I have to..." she trailed off. "God, Mom... what am I going to say? Everything I did last night... All the things I said to him!"  


Margaret ran a soothing hand through her daughter's hair. "Why don't I call him, okay?" She smiled tenderly. "I know he's anxious to see you."  


Scully nodded as her mother walked out, but, left alone with her thoughts, she almost wished she'd called her mother back. All the thoughts she'd had about him in the last two days... All the things she'd accused him of...  


She might have killed him...  


But, in the end, she was afraid she'd done something worse. She'd questioned his trust. In that, she was terrified that she'd destroyed the partnership that meant so much to her.  


   


Her mother's face seemed to tell a different story as the older woman walked back in.  


"He's on his way," she told her, smiling. "He's so glad you're feeling better."  


"Mom," Scully asked again, a little lost. "What am I going to say?"  


"You don't have to say anything, Dana," her mother replied simply. "He was afraid for _you_ last night, Honey. He knows it wasn't your fault."  


Scully nodded dully. _But does he know I trust him?_  


* * *  


Scully and her mom passed the twenty minutes that it took Mulder to get there by talking of anything and everything-- _except_ what had happened the night before. Scully knew now that this was something that would haunt her for a very long time.  


She just hoped it hadn't cost her Fox Mulder's friendship.  


   


He tried to prove that friendship to her the moment he walked in the door, raising his hands in mock-surrender, grinning at her in that way that made it impossible for her not to at least _try_ to smile back.  


Her smile this morning didn't last long, as he pulled up a chair, seeking her eyes. "How you feeling?" he asked gently.  


Her eyes fell immediately. She still didn't know exactly what she was going to say, but, as things often went with Fox Mulder, her mouth somehow found the right words. "Ashamed..."  


He was silently, totally, forgiving, plunging into an explanation of the video transmissions as if she'd never had a gun to his head in the past day.  


"...What if this video signal somehow turned these people's anxieties into some sort of dementia--a, a virtual reality of their own worst fears."  


"Like me thinking you'd betray me," she whispered thoughtfully, immediately damning herself for it as she saw the pain in his eyes, the tightness of his body. She went on quickly to explain what she had seen, surprised when he told her that Cancerman might really be involved.  


"You think it could be him?"  


"I don't know," he said quietly. He seemed suddenly nervous, as if he needed to leave now, before something important was said. "Why don't you try to get some rest?" he asked gently, rising to head out the door.  


She had to stop him. She hadn't really said what needed to be said yet. "Mulder?"  


He turned, that gentle half-smile of his gracing his face. "Yeah?"  


"We..." she ducked her head self-consciously. "...need to talk."  


He smiled again, nodding at her. He seemed to want to spare her the pain of this. "We can talk later."  


"No," she replied firmly. She needed him to know this _now._ If the talk could wait a day, it could wait a week... She knew herself. If she gave herself a chance to forget it, she would. And she could see in his eyes that he needed to hear her say those words as much as _she_ needed to say them. "I need to tell you now."  


He sat down again, leaning forward, that physical closeness, which she often found confining, now a comforting reminder of his presence.  


She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Mulder," she whispered. "I... The things I said last night--"  


He shook his head, as she remembered him doing when she told him she could remember nothing of her abduction. "It does matter," he told her.  


"It _does_!" She took a moment, not wanting to turn this into one of their arguments. It wasn't an argument, it was a renewal of her trust in him. And she needed to say it.  


"I know you know that I wasn't myself, but..." She met his eyes, willing him to see the truth of her statement. "I need you to know that I _do_ trust you--more than anyone..." she turned away slightly. "And the thought of that trust being betrayed..."  


She hated that she couldn't say more, but his hand on hers was the only absolution she needed. "Scully," he said quietly. "The things we've seen in the last four years... The things we've lost..." he squeezed her hand again lightly. "We can only trust each other. And the idea of having _no one_ to trust..." She met his eyes, surprised to find that, again, they were glistening with unshed tears. His voice was a bare whisper as he smiled at her. "It would be _my_ worst nightmare, too."  


* * *  
The End  


FANDOM: X-Files  
RATING: G  
ORIENTATION: Gen 


End file.
